A week passed since Ivan’s shameful return home, and he spent nearly the entirety of the week cooped up in his childhood bedroom. As it turned out, knowing that you shouldn’t care what other people think and actually not caring what they think were two very different things. A part of him was still afraid to face the harsh stares of judgment that had followed him since his youth.


    It had been nice at first to hide under the covers and pretend that time wasn’t moving and that all his misfortune was just a dream he could wake up from and return to college soon. But after a week, even his fantasies couldn’t comfort him any longer and the room became too suffocating to bear. So, he decided to go for a walk and get some fresh air.


    During his first two years of school, Ivan hadn’t even visited home a single time, avoiding it just as much as it avoided him when he was there. Honestly, he had been terrified that if he returned at all, it would become permanent. Maybe that feeling had turned out to be yet another unavoidable part of his fate.


    As he walked along the sidewalk, he couldn’t shake the oppressive weight that seemed to follow him out of his home. The buzzing of cicadas rang in his ears, much louder than he remembered them. It seemed a bit early in the year for them, but maybe the unusually hot weather had them fooled. Warm wind gently rustled the leaves of nearby trees, echoing through the forest like an eerie choir.


    The air was fresh and clean, and the space around Ivan was open and uncrowded. It should have been a welcome change of pace from the stifling city atmosphere, yet Ivan could feel no relief. Instead, he felt like countless unseen eyes were trailing him, worming their way under his skin and crawling around like ants. The sense of unease that came with being watched made his steps feel sluggish. Each movement took extra effort, as though he were wading through a pool of mud, even as he increased his pace.


    However, when Ivan took a quick glance around, he didn’t see anyone. Well, except for that lone neighbor that was always outside for some reason. Whether the man was mowing the lawn, washing his car, or just sitting on the porch, his presence was practically an eternal fixture in the neighborhood landscape. Ivan suspected he was the nosiest of them all.


    That time, he wasn’t looking at Ivan, though. Rather, he was busy digging around in his car for something. The man’s actions seemed like they were being performed in slow motion, almost as if he was submerged underwater. The rest of the houses around were equally silent and devoid of movement. The skin-crawling feeling intensified.


    Even the small, barely functional playground across the street that Ivan had often enjoyed as a child was abandoned. Weeds had sprung up, almost completely overrunning the mulch. The swing set was rusted and missing the seats, and yellow caution tape wrapped around the slanted poles. It was odd. Were there really no more kids left in the neighborhood that used it? Had everyone somehow grown up at the same time?


    It was haunting, the silence. Even the cicadas had ceased their chirping. The entire environment around him had become like another dimension. Suddenly, a dog barked somewhere in the distance, and whatever spell Ivan was under shattered. The dog rounded the house on the corner, finally coming into view, followed by the person walking it. They smiled at Ivan politely, but their eyes told a different story, and the dog continued to bark at Ivan as it passed.


    A car drove by with the music turned too loud, the bass rattling the vehicle all the way until it rolled out of sight. Birds chirped and an airplane flew by overhead, humming as it left a streak of artificial clouds in its wake. It was as though all life returned to the world at once.


    Even the abandoned playground now looked different, mulch fresh and with no sign of rusting metal. The seats of the swings rocked gently in a particularly strong breeze, chains clanking in the afternoon sun. In the distance, the cacophony of cicadas started up once more.


    What the hell? Ivan thought to himself before quickly shaking it off. Was he hallucinating? Perhaps he had spent too long cooped up inside in the dark.


    Still, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling, although it really shouldn’t have been anything new. Ivan had often felt that way throughout his life and chalked it up to just another side effect of his misfortune. He would feel discomfort even in the most mundane of circumstances.


    Since he was a kid, Ivan had been in twelve car accidents, four bus accidents, and even a boat accident. He had also been hit by bicycles and even scooters on multiple occasions (don’t ask him how). Ivan never even got his driver’s license because something always went horribly wrong before he could make it to the driving test stage. All of the accidents he had been in were not his doing, and yet he felt as though they were caused by him.


    Sufficed to say, Ivan preferred to walk most places.


    Those were just some examples, the tip of the iceberg. It was like a heavy cloud of catastrophe surrounded him, and those who were unfortunate enough to be near him also suffocated in it. Broken bones, sudden illnesses, near-death experiences; all of it was commonplace for Ivan and the people around him. In his case, misery really did love company, to the point that company preferred to steer clear of him.


    Even when he had been cooped up in his room the past week, several books had fallen off the shelf above his bed and hit him on the head in his sleep. All things considered, the feeling he was presently experiencing should not have been unusual in the slightest. Despite that, he found that he couldn’t brush it off like he normally did. Goosebumps pricked up along his arm as he further increased his pace.


    Eventually, Ivan reached his destination. It was a familiar diner near the center of town. Though it was old, having been there as long as Ivan could remember, it had been renovated to look like new. It was a family-owned business that was strangely open twenty-four hours. Growing up, Ivan often found himself at the diner when he didn’t know where else to go. It could have been his imagination, but nothing bad ever seemed to happen to him there.


    Being in a small town, there wasn’t much to do. Therefore, the diner was fairly busy most of the time. The bright neon sign lured the bored townsfolk in like moths to a flame, especially once the sun went down. There were more than a few unsavory patrons who frequented the late hours, yet the diner never closed. It was an interesting business decision on behalf of the family, the only employees of the place. Did they never sleep?


    Ivan found it an odd yet comforting phenomenon. Like no matter what happened in his life, the diner would still be there, waiting with open arms and a warm cup of coffee.


    As Ivan pushed open the heavy glass door, a tiny bell chimed, and a wave of nostalgia washed over him. It was just as he remembered. The vinyl booths, the countertop stools, the jukebox in the corner that didn’t even work anymore despite how pristine it appeared. It truly felt like Ivan’s second home.


    It was only late afternoon at that point, the least busy time apart from the dead of night, so the place was still half empty. A few families sat scattered in booths and an elderly couple occupied the far end of the counter. For Ivan, the fewer people the better. He took a seat at the counter, making sure to leave ample distance between himself and the elderly couple.


    Strange, he thought as he sat down, I don’t recognize him.


    The ‘him’ in question was of course the employee behind the counter. The diner was run by a family, and Ivan had been somewhat of a regular for a long time. However, the man he saw now was someone unfamiliar to him.


    “Excuse me, are you a part of the family that runs this place?” Ivan couldn’t help but ask out of curiosity.


    He was sure that if he’d seen the man before, he’d remember him. He was tall and handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a good build to match. He wore a serving apron around his waist and a tight black t-shirt clung to his lean muscles. The man’s features were pulled into a concentrated frown. His thick, furrowed brows contributed to the man’s cold outward appearance as he answered.


    “Of course, I’m working here aren’t I?” he replied, not looking up from the pot of coffee he was brewing. His tone was equally as deep and frosty as his appearance.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Interesting, Ivan remarked to himself. He only ever remembered the owners having two daughters, but not a son. Maybe he was a cousin or something else of the sort?


    “Anyway,” the man continued, finally looking up, “what can I-“.


    He trailed off without finishing his sentence as he met Ivan’s gaze. His eyebrows rose a fraction and his movements momentarily halted.


    “Is something the matter?” Ivan asked nervously. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.


    There was recognition in the man’s gaze, but no fear or disgust. Only genuine surprise. It was unlike the stares Ivan was used to, and he felt inexplicably unsettled by it. Usually, if someone knew who he was, he got a very different reaction.


    “No. I… um…” the man trailed off again before clearing his throat and straightening up, his expression returning to normal. “We… went to high school together.”


    Oh… oh?


    Now it was Ivan’s turn to be surprised. “Uh, right! Of course,” he said with a forced chuckle.


    The man behind the counter sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s alright, you don’t have to pretend to remember me. I was actually in the grade below you.”


    Below me??? He looks at least a year older than me!


    Still, Ivan just continued to smile. He had built up quite the people-pleaser mentality over the years, despite never really succeeding at it. “What’s your name? Maybe I’ll recognize it.”


    The man stared consideringly at him for a while and Ivan almost thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Mikah,” he finally said.


    Ivan hummed in thought. “Mikah… Mikah…”


    He tried to recall his high school days as best he could, but he had always had a problem remembering things even on a good day. “Sorry, it doesn’t ring any bells,” he eventually responded apologetically.


    The man, Mikah, just sighed again. Ivan wasn’t sure if it was a regular part of his personality or if Ivan not remembering him really had ticked him off. “I already said it’s alright,” Mikah said. “Anyway, did you want to order something?”


    Mikah continued fidgeting with the stuff around him and even swore under his breath after almost burning himself with the coffee pot. And although he was focusing on other tasks, his eyes kept drifting back to Ivan before flicking away again. He said it was fine, but Ivan couldn’t help but feel bad about not knowing who he was. He just hoped that wasn’t what Mikah was upset about.


    “I’ll just have some coffee for now,” Ivan answered politely. He was pretending not to notice the other’s obvious signs of irritation.


    Mikah nodded, pulling out a ceramic mug from below the counter and placing it in front of Ivan. He grabbed the coffee pot again and went to fill the mug. However, said mug suddenly started leaking out of the bottom, coffee seeping all over the counter.


    “I’m so sorry!” Ivan said in a panic, hurriedly looking around for something to use to clean it up. He quickly grabbed a napkin and went to wipe up the mess but before he could, Mikah had swiftly grabbed his wrist.


    “Don’t. It’s hot. Also, why do you keep apologizing? The cup obviously must’ve had a crack in it, so it’s my fault,” Mikah said calmly.


    I’m not so sure about that. The mug looked fine before, Ivan thought miserably. His luck had struck again, and always at the worst times. He had thought the diner was safe, but after being away for two years, it seemed not even that was sacred anymore.


    Mikah grabbed a thick rag from under the counter and used it to mop up the brown liquid before fetching another cup. Even though he was acting nonchalant about it, Ivan could see the irritation further creeping into his expression. He kept glaring at something over Ivan’s shoulder, but when Ivan turned his head, he didn’t see anything. Still, Mikah kept his cool and went to pour the coffee again.


    Suddenly, the counter shook like it was struck by an earthquake, and coffee once again spilled everywhere.


    “Ah, I’m sorry gentlemen,” the old man called from the far end of the counter. “I bumped the counter with my cane as I was getting up.” As he stood with his wife to leave, he tossed a few more loose bills on the counter as an added apology.


    “It’s fine, accidents happen,” Mikah answered, though it was uttered through gritted teeth. He was obviously bothered but was trying to maintain composure. Mikah then made eye contact with Ivan, and it was clear they both had the same thought.


    How could an old man have shaken the entire counter like that with a simple bump of his cane?


    Something was odd, but like many things in his life, Ivan didn’t have an explanation. He could only smile apologetically as Mikah once again retrieved the cloth to clean up the mess. By that point, the once-white rag was almost entirely brown with coffee stains. When he was finished, he turned back to Ivan with a stern expression.


    “This time, you try,” he said, offering Ivan the pot of coffee.


    “Uhhh I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Ivan replied nervously.


    He was already pretty sure that whatever was going on was because of him. So far, though definitely unlucky, the outcome hadn’t been too terrible since it had been Mikah handling everything. Handing Ivan the coffee pot in the current situation would be like handing him a loaded gun!


    “Just try it,” Mikah insisted.


    Reluctantly, Ivan took the glass coffee pot from his hand. Only, the second he had it firmly in his grasp, the entire thing shattered! Hot coffee poured out in waves as broken glass rained down. Luckily, most of it was over the counter. Ivan and Mikah both jumped out of the way in time to avoid most of the splash. Even then, some managed to stain Ivan’s shirt and pants, and he hissed at the slight burn through the fabric.


    Mikah had somehow gone completely unscathed, not a drop of coffee had hit him, but now he appeared to be furious. No longer bothering to hide it, he slapped the rag down onto the counter in frustration, the wet plop of the cloth making Ivan wince.


    “That’s it! I can’t do it anymore!” Mikah exclaimed.


    Then, without warning, he walked around the counter, grabbed Ivan by the wrist, and dragged him into the kitchen. Ivan could feel the baffled looks of the diner’s other patrons burning a hole in his back as he let himself be tugged along. The owners were in the kitchen cooking, and they both looked up in alarm at the sudden intrusion.


    “What’s going on?” his mom asked, setting aside the spatula in her hand. “What was all that commotion?”


    Now that Ivan thought about it, he didn’t know how he hadn’t seen the resemblance sooner. Mikah looked a lot like his mom. She also had pleasant features and beautiful dark hair. His dad was on the more intimidating side, still handsome but much more rugged-looking, merely glancing up before going back to work, unphased by whatever chaos was unfolding. He and Mikah shared the same piercing, cold eyes.


    “Permission to use the back office?” Mikah urged impatiently.


    “Can you answer my question first?” his mom protested. “Mikah, you can’t just-“


    “Honey,” Mikah’s father interrupted. “Take another look at that boy beside him.”


    Her gaze instantly slid over to Ivan before widening slightly, just like Mikah’s had when he’d first seen him. Was it because of the spilled coffee? Did he look like that much of a mess? Ivan looked down at his clothes. Sure they were stained, but it was manageable. It couldn’t be that big of a deal, right?


    Or maybe they wanted Ivan to repay them somehow for all the damages. That would be a problem, Ivan thought.


    “Fine,” Mikah’s mom relented, letting out a huff. “Just try not to make too much noise.” Then, she turned back to her husband. “Guess I’ll manage the front for now.” After that announcement, she removed her cooking apron and tossed it aside before storming out without another word, grabbing a notepad on her way.


    Mikah simply nodded at his father, apparently coming to some kind of silent understanding, and then quickly pulled Ivan along through another door. It was the back office, rather unassuming except for the fact that it had no windows. Oh, and some weird scrolls with foreign symbols hung on the walls, but maybe his parents were just into some odd decorations.


    Ivan started to panic again when he heard the door lock behind him. He quickly turned around to confront Mikah. “Look, I’m sorry about the coffee, okay? I can tell you’re upset-”. Ivan’s words died in his throat as Mikah began to rummage through the desk drawers. “What are you doing?”


    “I am upset, but not with you,” came Mikah’s response, still crouched behind the desk. Then, he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a square wooden box with another one of those weird sigils carved on the lid. When Mikah opened the box, Ivan nearly passed out on the spot.


    “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme!? I can pay to replace everything that broke!” he pleaded.


    I’m gonna die!!!, he screamed internally. “People saw me come back here!” he said externally.


    “Hold still,” Mikah instructed. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Ivan’s desperate rambling.


    Calmly, he lifted the shiny silver gun out of the box, aimed it at Ivan, and fired.